


More than Scarlet

by Daegaer



Category: Saiyuki/Weiss Kreuz
Genre: Crossover, Fights, M/M, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-21
Updated: 2007-04-21
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Gojyo knows everyone can see what he is, now there's another of his kind in the room.





	More than Scarlet

"Shit."

Gojyo looked away from the table set against the far wall. His breath was coming fast, he realized. He stared at the food till he wasn't so freaked out, till he could steal one of Goku's dumplings with something like his normal good humour.

"What is it?" Hakkai asked.

"Nothing," Gojyo said. It was precisely the wrong answer to ever give to Hakkai, of course. He knew that. He still said it. Hakkai looked round, so casual, like he thought he was some sort of secret agent.

"Ah," Hakkai said, his eyes on young man seated at the far table. "Just ignore him, Gojyo."

"Ignore what?" Gojyo said. Damn. He sounded like a sulky kid. Hakkai gently put the last few king prawns in his bowl. Hakkai loved prawns. Damn. "They've got garlic all over them," Gojyo said. "Some monk or other thinks we all want to scare the ladies off as much as he does. You eat them."

"More like you think they're your cousins, you water cockroach!" Goku crowed in triumph.

"Yeah," Gojyo said, suddenly tired. "That's it, they're family. You eat them, then, Goku." He pushed the bowl away and tuned out Goku's laughter and victorious greedy snatching at the food. The guy at the far table was ignoring the world, eating his dinner quietly and neatly. He was thin, nowhere near as muscular as Gojyo. He was as tall, Gojyo reckoned. He had the same fuck-off air as Gojyo had always done his best to portray when there weren't girls to charm. He was interestingly pale and very pretty.

He had scarlet hair.

Two of us in one room, Gojyo thought. People will ask questions. Someone's gonna know. He didn't know which was worse, innocent questions about whether they were family, was their hair really that colour, or the sneering, dawning realization in people's eyes. No, he thought. The worst thing would be when people acted like they were cool with it, and were painfully, horribly polite. They could ask about his fascinating upbringing, and wonder if he'd been told about both sides of his heritage. He stood up abruptly.

"I'm going to bed," he said. "See you in the morning."

"G'night," Goku said indistinctly.

"Gojyo –" Hakkai started.

"S'OK. I'm just tired," he said.

Sanzo looked at him over the top of his paper, but didn't say anything. Good. He wasn't in the mood for educated sarcasm.  


He went into the toilets and glared at the wall behind the urinals like he'd crack the plumbing. He was at the sinks scooping water up over his face when the door opened. The guy from the far table came in, giving him a suspicious look. Oh, great. Gojyo concentrated on washing his face and hands while the guy pissed, wishing he'd thought to get his toothbrush before dinner. Well, he wasn't going up the room and coming back down. He'd brush his teeth after breakfast.

" _What?_ "

He froze.

"What 'what'?" he said, turning round.

The guy was trying to kill him with a look. "You've been staring at me all evening, and now you're acting like you think I'm going to jump you or like you want to jump me."

"Oh, please," Gojyo said before he could think, "You're not _that_ pretty." The guy looked furious. A nasty feeling suddenly rose up in Gojyo. "And I'm not that desperate," he smirked.

"You --," the guy started, then stopped. "Run back to your boyfriend," he said.

"He's not my – piss off, it's not your business," Gojyo snapped.

The guy smirked, and shouldered him aside. " _If_ you'll excuse me, I want to wash my hands."

Gojyo pushed back. This guy was no better than him, just another freak who should never have been born. The guy wasn't expecting it, and made a funny noise as his side hit the sinks. He bounced back and right there, out of nowhere, a weird-ass foreign-looking sword was in his hands. Oh yeah, Gojyo thought, fighting down the urge to call up his own weapon. You're no better than me.

"Put your pig sticker away, kid," he said scornfully. "You don't stand a chance against me."

"I don't kill unarmed drunks," the guy said, and the sword was gone. Not vanished, Gojyo suddenly thought. Just quickly stowed, like he had experience in hiding weapons. He didn't have much time to think about it, because the guy socked him in the mouth. Gojyo staggered back and sat down hard on the stinking concrete floor. The guy turned wordlessly and began to wash his hands.

Gojyo surged up off the floor and tackled him. The next few moments were always somewhat confused in his memory. Both of them got their skulls cracked against the concrete, but they both seemed to have hard heads. Gojyo got kneed in the nuts, which he thought wasn't exactly fair play, but then he'd punched the guy a couple of times in the groin by then. He was pretty sure he'd been given at least one black eye, so he head butted the fool and kicked him when he was down. He wasn't quite expecting the strength in the grasp on his ankle that pulled him down. After a confused few seconds more they both somehow ended up sitting on each other.

"Had enough?" they both asked at the same time.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Gojyo said. He scowled at his opponent, willing him to laugh, or back down or _something_. Nothing. Well, if you couldn't beat them, or make them laugh, you could always win by surprise. He wriggled just free enough to kiss the idiot, and to get a hand onto his groin.

"What?" the guy said, which gave Gojyo enough time to consolidate his position, and get his tongue and fingers doing something useful. The fight started again, though with different tactics. Gojyo managed to stop his suddenly aggressively eager partner from trying to disrobe him – no way was he doing anything on this floor that needed anyone to be naked. The guy settled for the same awkward grip Gojyo had, and it became a race to the finish, with the winner losing. Or something. They groaned and fell apart at more or less the same time.

Gojyo lay on the cold floor, panting. He could hear his – friend, he supposed – trying to not sound like he'd just run a marathon. He sat up and watched the guy tidy himself. "Well," Gojyo said, feeling _something_ was needed. "It stopped us killing each other."

"You started it. _All_ of it."

"Yeah? Well, you shouldn't have come here, you freak. Making life difficult for honest card sharps."

"Huh?" the guy said, as if Gojyo was talking nonsense.

"Yeah! It's bad enough as it is, you should have the decency not to parade around like you're –" Gojyo paused, and looked closer. "You have violet eyes," he said.

"What of it?"

Gojyo looked away. "Nothing. Sorry. My mistake. But you're a goddamned touchy bastard."

He listened to the sounds of the guy scrambling up. Then, ruefully,

"Yeah. I get that a lot."

Gojyo looked up at the outstretched hand and accepted the help. He was very tired. He really wanted to sleep. He shook his head at the damage he'd caused, whistled when he saw his reflection.

"Nice to meet ya," he said, with a little smile. He headed for the door, looked back at the other's wary expression. "Hey," he said softly. "My parents loved me. My dad did, anyway."

"I'm sure," his new pal said. "I can see you're a very loveable person."

Gojyo snorted a painful laugh, and left. The world was full of all kinds of freaks, he thought. Maybe he wasn't the prime specimen after all.


End file.
